


When I'm With You

by wasp



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, coffee shop!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-06
Updated: 2012-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:39:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasp/pseuds/wasp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn't help that he's already half in-love with Louis and capable of spontaneously losing his speech around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I'm With You

Liam tries to justify his sweating palms and pounding heart to his general anxiety but he can't even fool himself - he doesn't know how he's going to fool the barista. Liam knows, prays actually, that a large part of his nerves waiting in line to order actually comes from his anxiety because as Zayn has told him enough times - Liam is a socially inadequate fuck. However the little 12 year old part of his brain squeals it's actually because of the fluffy-headed barista taking the orders with the warm smile and deft fingers.

The thing is, Liam hates small talk- especially with strangers - especially with strangers he has to _tip_. He knows the motions, he knows what he’s supposed to say, he's not a total social hermit but he loathes the awkwardness clawing its way up his throat, choking his sentences. He has enough awkwardness instilled his being without it spilling over into his conversations. It doesn't help that he's already half in-love with Louis and capable of spontaneously losing his speech around him.

"Ah, my loyal, every faithful customer returns," Louis says, smiling disarmingly and already tapping in Liam's usual order into the register with frightening speed.

"Uh, hello," Liam says, he'd never been all that good at the banter that comes so naturally to boys his age.

"You haven't been cheating on me with that Starbucks whore, have you? The bitter sweet smell of betrayal better not be coming from _you_ ," Louis says, pulling a stupid face that should _not_ be as endearing as Liam finds it. Liam tells himself to breathe because if he’s going to go into anaphylactic shock every time the idiot does something like _pull a face_ he’s not going to last five minutes.

"No, I think I’ve been pretty faithful to my choice of coffee shops," Liam says, knowing it isn't the best answer. “I guess I’m a kept woman,” Liam says and at this point, he has no idea what the fuck is coming out of his mouth - did he just refer to himself as a _woman?_

Louis laughs anyway, throwing his head back and screwing his eyes shut so they crinkle at the corners and make Liam's stomach flip in the most uncomfortable way. Liam tries not to react in any obvious way such as lunging across the counter and kissing him on the mouth but he can't help the fond smile that slips onto his face.

Of _course_ he has been ‘faithful’ to the creatively titled ‘The Coffee Shop’. He had walked into the cafe a month ago, having studied for about fourteen hours straight in the university library and in desperate need of caffeine before he dropped dead. He had been painfully aware of how awful he looked with the bloodshot eyes, that day's stubble and bed head from how he had been slumped over his textbooks. Louis had been leaning against the counter with that lovely, easy smile on his face, his toms stained with coffee and it didn’t take long for Liam to be half in love with him already.

Louis opens his mouth with a response when a loud crash comes from behind Liam and the fairly deserted coffee shop turns to look at the doorway.

“Shit. Since when has _that_ been there?” a boy with a massive head of curls says, pointing at the umbrella stand now laying on the floor.

“Since forever?” Louis says, that familiar smile lighting up his face.

Liam tries not to glare as the boy referred to as Harry by Louis, saunters towards and jumps up to sit on the counter. The month Liam has been regularly coming to drink his terrible coffee at The Coffee Shop had been plagued by the existence of this stupidly charming, _pretty_ little fuck.

“I thought you had classes until 9,” Louis says, finishing up with Liam’s coffee.

“Weeeeell,” Harry says, shrugging as leans down towards Louis, “I thought it’d be more to get free coffee and annoy you then to listen to that old hag drone on about - what course am I taking again?”

“Psychology,” Louis says, snorting and throwing his rag at him.

Liam sighs, quickly pays for his coffee and takes a seat, ignoring the jolt in his heart when their fingers brush. He takes his laptop out, turning it on without missing a beat and taking a sip of the horrible coffee. He tells himself not to look up at Louis and Harry. He does anyway and doesn’t miss the way Louis whole face seems to light up at what Harry’s said, both of them cackling away.

Liam sighs again and takes a sip, pulls a face. He feels fucking pathetic.

~

“Alright, Payne?” Zayn asks, dropping into the seat next to Liam.

Liam looks up from where he’s stationed at his usual table in the cafe, finishing typing up the last sentence before he looks up to give Zayn a quick nod. He takes a sip from his coffee and tries not to pull a face but it’s not use, Zayn sees right through him.

“You are such an idiot,” Zayn says, shaking his head and breathing out a laugh.

“Wow, is this how you talk to all the girls?” Liam asks dryly, putting his coffee down and forcing himself not to flick his eyes over towards the counter. He has a rule. He only looks up every five minutes. It’s a hard rule and he usually doesn’t follow through but he’s trying to be a New Liam.

Louis has a boyfriend. He has a boyfriend and they’re both in love and Liam would never have guts to go talk to him. Talk to him anything other than how Liam’s a ‘kept woman’ anyway. Liam kind of wishes he never opened his mouth, like ever.

Zayn shrugs.

“Yeah, it probably is,” Liam says, “you complacent fuck.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Zayn says, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.

“You did _not_ just say that,” Liam says, a laughter bubbling up in his throat as much as he wants to squash it down.

The thing is - Zayn is fucking ridiculous. He’s fucking ridiculous and he also happens to be Liam’s (only) best friend. People on campus tend to look at them funny because Zayn is so popular - with the girls _and_ boys - and Liam is basically the nerd with the giant nose. Liam tries not to think about how someone as ridiculous as Zayn seems to have this mass cult following, it hurts his head.

“Okay, look,” Zayn says, leaning forward on his elbows to get Liam’s attention. “You just go up to him and tell him you want to have lots of babies and you’d like to get a head start on that counter. Aha. _Head._ ”

“I don’t know why I talk to you, honestly, you are useless,” Liam says, shaking his head and refusing to make eye-contact with Zayn’s knowing brown eyes.

“Do you _love_ him? Do you want to be Mrs. Coffee Barista?” Zayn says, putting on a ridiculous accent, pushing his face towards Liam.

“Oh my god will you please shut up,” Liam says, laughing, trying to punch Zayn away from him.

They must have been making quite some noise because when Liam lets himself glance up at Louis at the counter, Louis’ looking at him with an odd expression on his face.

“If you’re not going to do anything about it - and may I remind you it’s been a _fucking_ month, you could be getting _laid_ for a change - I will,” Zayn says, clapping Liam on the back and getting to his feet before Liam can somehow subdue his best friend. He could try messing up his hair. Zayn has a thing about his hair, and by thing he meant if you messed with it he would try to rip your testicles off.

“Don’t - Zayn - I’ll tell - _fuck_ ,” Liam stutters, a hand held out towards the retreating Zayn in defeat. He couldn’t even get some of his blackmail shit out. Like that time Zayn had broken up with his girlfriend and gotten really _really_ drunk and kept asking if he was pretty and if Liam were unwed he would take him like a screen door during a hurricane.

Liam covers his face with his hands for a moment before realising the only way this could be worse is if he didn’t hear what Zayn was saying to Louis. He jumps up, almost spilling his coffee and hurrying towards the pair.

“No, I did not know that,” Liam gets there in time to hear Louis say, a delighted expression on his face. “Your charming friend was telling me about how you used to have tea-parties dressed in fancy lady clothes?” Louis asks Liam, his eyes shining.

“Firstly, I was forced into that by his sisters and secondly, Zayn’s a compulsive liar and pretend _I didn’t admit to dressing in women’s clothes_ ,” Liam says hurriedly, elbowing Zayn in the stomach. “Zayn cried watching The Princess Diaries - not once but _every single time afterwards_. Also, he’s watched it more than five times.”

Zayn, who had been silently laughing himself to death because Liam being nervous with a boy was _adorable_ , straightened up with an indignant shout. A smug smile spreads on Liam’s face as he ignores Zayn vehemently denying anything of the sort.

“Um, so, we’re going to go somewhere else now,” Liam says, grabbing Zayn around the shoulders and leading him back to the table.

“Wait - Louis, there’s a party tonight at my mate’s place - have you heard of this Irish fucker? Everyone’s heard of Niall - anyway, just come along and -” Zayn's abruptly cut off by Liam grabbing their stuff and pushing him out of the door.

Niall is one of Zayn’s many friends and together they manage to get Liam to stop studying and come to his party. Liam sighs, looks at his phone and wonders how much shit Zayn would give him if he decided to stay in for the night. He has an exam in three days and if he doesn’t get the top mark he’s going to just _implode_ from the sheer feeling of incompetence.

“LIAM!” Niall cheers, letting out a maniacal laughter, a beer in his hand. The sad thing is, Liam’s met Niall a couple of times and he still can’t tell if he’s drunk or not. “Glad you could make it, mate, come in, come in,” Niall says, throwing his arm around Liam and leading him inside, nodding and pointing at people on the way.

Liam gets by, mostly by nodding and raising his eyebrows as people drunkenly open their mouths and exclaim his name like they know him.

“Look who’s decided to show up!” Zayn says, loose and _tipsy_ by the look of it. He pulls Liam into an overly-enthusiastic hug which is weird in itself because Zayn and Liam don’t have the most _touchy_ friendship. Niall hasn’t stopped laughing in Liam’s ear the whole time and Liam still doesn’t know if that’s his first drink.

“Decided to unplug that tampon, did you?” Zayn asks without any bite, immediately offering Liam a shot.

“I hope you get syphilis tonight!” Liam says instead of cheers and downs the shot. It burns its way down his throat and leaves his belly warm.

“I’ll drink to that, lads” Niall says and Liam doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about. Niall hands him another shot and Liam just shrugs. Might as well get properly fucked up if he’s going to do it.

“Cheers,” Liam says and downs the shot, it goes down better than the last one and leaves a smile on his face. He doesn’t get much reprieve before Zayn’s pushing another shot in his hand and the trio are downing it.

Liam’s lost count of how many shots he’s done but by the time he managed to slip away from them, Niall had been completely red in the face just laughing his Irish ass off at Zayn trying to chat up some bird. Liam realises he’s probably very drunk because the room is moving in a way that’s not entirely unpleasant and he feels so _hot._

Liam collapses onto a sofa and tries to pull his sweater off, getting his head stuck and wondering why the world had turned all woolly. He tries again and only ends up getting tangled and flustered.

“Need a hand there, mate?” a familiar, lilting voice came from his right before he deftly pulled the sweater over his head.

Liam looks up, squinting at him for absolutely no reason at all except his smile was kind of blinding. He didn’t know smiles could _be_ blinding until he had met Louis. A smile was a smile, unless someone had swallowed the goddamn sun it wasn’t ever going to be _blinding_. Of course, his world started making no sense when he started talking to Louis. So. Mute point.

“Louis!” Liam says, breaking out into a smile - the one where his whole face kind of scrunches up and he looks like a giant puppy. He’s not particularly fond of that smile but he kind of doesn’t have any control over his facial muscles at the moment. “I like your pants, they make your legs look like red sausages!” Liam says, grinning from ear to ear, staring at Louis legs.

“Why, Liam with two sugars, are you offending my delicate sensibilities and calling me a _heifer?”_ Louis says and in the back of his mind somewhere, Liam knows he’s joking but it doesn’t stop him from waving his arms around, trying to fix his mess.

“What, no!” Liam says, looking up at Louis in earnest, “I meant they look delicious.”

“That’s nice to know,” Louis says, laughing and falling onto the sofa next to him. “I do realise I look extremely edible at all times but one does needs the reminder every now and then,” Louis says and flicks at Liam’s nose. Liam collapses into a fit of giggles that he wishes he could control and Louis says, “you must _really_ be fucking trashed.”

Liam widens his eyes and shakes his head in earnest. Louis laughs and takes a swig from the beer of bottle in his hand, shaking his head slightly before laughing to himself again. Liam can’t help but track how his adam’s apple bobs down with each swallow and gets distracted by his collar bones - he had no idea collarbones could look so fucking great.

“I really wish I wasn’t drunk right now,” Liam says regretfully, stretching out a finger absent-mindedly to touch his collarbone, peeking out of Louis striped t-shirt. He attempts to abort the gesture but only ends up tracing the line of the bone, smiling crookedly with his eyes falling shut.

Louis doesn’t seem to mind, he just raises eyebrow and says, “and why is that?”

“Doesn’t matter. On second thought, I guess it’s better this way,” Liam says, shrugging, detaching his fingers with a struggle and slumping against the side of the sofa. Louis follows, leaning towards him with that soft smile on his face. “Did you come with Harry?” Liam asks, sobering up slightly.

“Nah, even Curly can’t get away for not handing in three assignments past their due date, lazy fucker,” Louis says.

“Oh.” Liam tries not to stare at Louis’ face but then he realises he’s actively avoiding his gaze so he looks back at him. He has really nice eyes. And eyelashes. And _cheekbones_. Louis has nice everything and this makes his heart swell up in his chest before it deflates quicker than before, leaving him feeling a little sick.

“Why do you think it’s better if you’re drunk?” Louis asks, raising an eyebrow, amused and curious at the same time.

Liam forgot they were talking about that. He shrugs, smiles in a self-deprecating way and says, “Because I’m boring and you’re not and you’ve got Harry and you’re really pretty and you have great legs and collarbones and - and _ears,_ ” Liam has to physically shut himself up because he _knows_ he’s making an utter fool of himself but he can’t _stop._

Louis laughs, throwing his head back in delight and Liam kind of thinks that’s okay, he’d be willing to make a fool of himself to see him laugh like that. “ _I_ must be drunker than I thought,” Louis says, shaking his head and slumping against Liam in a comfortable way. Liam hopes they won’t have to get up soon because he’s pretty sure his limbs just _won’t_ cooperate.

“You’re not boring,” Louis says, looking up at him with soft eyes. “You’re a bloody idiot, but you’re not boring.” Louis prys Liam’s fingers from where he’s clamped it down onto his mouth. “Look, even your birthmark’s shaped like a drunk Australia,” Louis says with a laugh, tracing the mark, his voice quiet.

And the only way Liam knows how to answer that is to lean forward that last inch and press his lips against Louis’ like he’s been dying to the moment he met him. Louis responds immediately, is if he’s been _waiting_ for this, surging forward, his hand curling around Liam’s warm neck, the pads of his fingertips rubbing against the hair that curls against the nape of his neck. Liam wasn’t even sure he had hands until they cupped Louis’ face and pulled him closer, aware that he wasn’t being able to show his best techniques at the moment.

They part for a moment and Louis is smiling widely and Liam _has_ to kiss him again because otherwise his heart’s actually going to jump out of his throat.

~

Liam wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, he had blinked at his empty word document obnoxiously blinking back at him, then Harry had materialised in front of him. He took a sit without invitation, flipping a chair backwards boyishly, long limbs splayed out under the table. Liam can’t help but stare because _jesus christ_ he really _was_ pretty and also because they had never exchanged more than two words. It didn’t help Harry was widening his eyes and looking ever so slightly like a fucking serial killer.

It had been a week since the party and Liam still wasn’t sure if it hadn’t been his imagination but Niall had assured him he had seen Liam and Louis trying to mold into one person on his precious couch. He couldn’t bring himself to go to The Coffee Shop afterwards, embarrassed beyond all belief and in _denial._ He was also avoiding Louis and his _boyfriend._ He had been so drunk and Louis probably had taken pity on him and _ugh._ The fact that he was sitting in The Coffee Shop right now was sheer madness but he was too weak, couldn’t stay away for too long.

"Um, did you need something?" Liam asks, raising one thick eyebrow, trying to pass off sheer panic as confusion. “Were you - were you looking for someone?” Liam continues, praying that for some reason Harry had mistook him for someone or was actually looking for the one person Liam actually knew: Zayn.

"Yeah, _you_ ," Harry drawls and he’s still wearing that slightly maniacal smile. He leans forward, looking quite menacing for someone who basically looks like a charming, giant puppy of a man. Liam glances up, barely a flicker of his eye, at the counter and realises with sudden clarity that Louis isn’t there.

“He went to the toilet,” Harry says with a knowing glint in his eyes. Liam feels his heart thud in his chest, blood suddenly rushing through his ears. Harry must know what’s happened. Liam gulps. He’s never been great at confrontations - it’s pretty much the only reason Zayn gets him into so much shit.

"So. _Louis_ ," harry says in his low voice.

Liam's already thinking of excuses, he's actually a coffee addict, this is the only good place with internet connection, his butt is allergic to any other seats -

"Don’t be fucking shy _now_ ," Harry says and smiles, doesn't seem so threatening anymore but Liam knows better than to let his guard down. "I’ve seen you making cow eyes at him-"

"Wha-whaaaaaat?" Liam says, trying to pass the comment off as casually as he could. He hasn’t been making cow eyes at Louis, he hasn’t been making cow eyes at _anyone -_ he doesn’t even know how to make cow eyes! “I can assure you that I definitely have not. It’s the menu, I’m writing an article on … coffee names and how misleading they are,” Liam lies quickly and he can tell it’s weak as shit.

Harry doesn't look mollified, he stares at Liam with a little frown on his face. Either he’s totally seen through his bullshit or he’s got some other agenda. Honestly, Liam would've thought he would've been happy that some other man wasn't trying to hit on his boyfriend.

"Why not?" he demands, hands splayed out on the coffee table, inches from his mac.

Liam, closes his mac hurriedly and replies, "Why am I _not_ making cow eyes at your -" Liam gestures vaguely and Harry nods, that little frown still on his face. Liam can’t help be worried for Harry’s sanity. This isn’t exactly normal behaviour. He waits a beat and tries, “because he’s not my type?”

"Oh," he says and Liam _must_ be mistaken because he looks bloody disappointed. Liam waits a moment, uncomfortable and itching out of his skin, hoping Louis stays in the toilet before he makes a hasty retreat from this place and _never come back._

"What _is_ your type, then?" Harry asks, suddenly looking up, curls bouncing slightly in a way that should be hilarious but is definitely _not_ in this situation and time.

Liam pauses because he has no idea how to answer this and most of all - he has no fucking idea what is happening. "Uhhhh," he says, mouth opening and closing without another sound.

The bells that hang over the opening of the cafe rings at that moment and Liam almost gives himself whiplash to catch a sight of the familiar face. "ZAYN!" Liam pretty much bellows at him, getting up and hurriedly grabbing his laptop and coffee. "Sorry, not that this hasn't been delightful but I’ve got to go," Liam says as politely as he can and rushes after him.

He throws his arm around Zayn and steers him out of the coffee shop, ignoring his protests to get away from the place as fast as possible.

He’s never _ever_ coming back to this stupid cafe. He’s fucked things up enough for Louis and nothing would’ve happened anyway and this was a _bad idea_ in the first place.

Falling in love usually is.

~

Liam isn’t exactly surprised when the door to his apartment is blown open by the force of Zayn’s massive foot. He’d been expecting him for a couple of hours actually; it’s hard to be predictable when you’ve known each other since you used to sleep holding hands. It doesn’t mean Liam has done anything to change how he’s spent the last couple of days, cooped up in his bedroom, ignoring school and determinedly ignoring deadlines.

“You do realise you have a key,” Liam says from where he’s curled up in his bed, not taking his eyes off the screen.

When Liam flicks his eyes over to where Zayn is standing in his tiny apartment he can’t help but snort. Zayn’s indignant rage is affected for a second as he tries to explain, “Thought it’d be more dramatic and all.” He shrugs, being normal for a second before he’s storming forward, up in arms once again.

“Right.” Liam turns back to the screen and tries to smother himself deeper into the pile of blankets around him.

“You need to get the fuck out of bed,” Zayn says, dropping his bag over the single chair in the flat and trying to look as menacing as possible. He flops onto Liam’s king-sized bed - the only thing big enough in his flat for people to sit on comfortably - and starts grabbing chip packets and take-away containers from the sheets.

“It’s been a _week_ , mate,” Zayn says, dumping the rubbish to the side and sitting up to glare at Liam. “It’s been a week since you’ve been moping around like a dick and you _need_ to get out of bed and stop being stupid.”

“Where on earth did you learn your motivational skills? Your cleverly veiled insults and imperative language has cured me of my crippling anxiety and resulting embarrassment and I am all up and ready to go out into the world!” Liam says, smiling brightly and popping his thumbs up. "That was sarcasm, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Look, it’s not even a big deal! You made out with Louis when you were drunk off your face. Do you really want to know how many people I’ve drunkenly made out with this week?” Zayn asks, rolling his eyes.

“Knowing you, low hundreds?” Liam says.

“That’s not the point – everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those-.”

“Don’t you fucking dare quote Hannah Montana at me!” Liam says, trying to kick Zayn’s shoulder without sitting up.

“You need to stop moping about this. It’s just a boy. There are other fish in the sea and all that,” Zayn says, shrugging.

He looks helpless, like he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to be saying. Whenever they fought while they were growing up, Zayn was never very good with apologies. He’d just always mumble under his breath until Liam took pity on him and forgave him for shoving ice down his pants and making it look like he wet his pants for the rest of the day. Liam can see through his nonchalance, though, knows he’s not the most articulate friend in the world and all of sudden, Liam’s just a little bit more grateful that he _does_ have Zayn for a friend.

“I know. But he’s not _just_ a boy,” Liam says, embarrassed that he’s admitting something akin to _emotions_ to his best friend. “And I’ve made a right twat out of myself so help me god, I’m going to watch RuPaul’s drag race and feel sorry for myself.”

“This isn’t even the new season!” Zayn says, noticing the screen for the first time. Of course Zayn would know which season of Rupaul’s drag race this was. He reaches for the remote at the same time, Liam grabs at it, hugging it protectively towards his chest.

“No, don’t turn it off! I want to know what ‘Liz Hurley fuck me pumps’ are,” Liam says, scrambling away from Zayn’s attempts to get to the remote.

“If he’s so important to you, you should call him up, make sense of it all. He did kiss you back; it’s not all on you. Go _talk_ to him you arsing bitch,” Zayn says, giving out reasonable advice and insults in the same breath.

~

The next day, Niall drags him out of his flat to go get some coffee at Starbucks. Of course, Liam doesn’t even like coffee so he ends up drinking hot chocolate and watching in dismay as Niall starts to get louder and louder, sugar working as fast as alcohol to get the boy hyped up. Liam sighs as Niall finishes Liam’s own hot chocolate and orders another round of doughnuts.

“Niall, I just saw you eat two sandwiches on the way here,” Liam says, watching in disgust and amazement as Niall starts on the jam-filled doughnuts.

“What’s your point?” Niall asks with his mouth full, face red with the effort.

“Try not to choke,” Liam says, giving up. Niall grins at him and gives him a nod, reaching for another doughnut. Liam is starting to think getting out of bed this morning was a mistake as much as he’s enjoying watching Niall eat himself to an early heart attack.

“So, have you talked to Lou yet?” Niall asks out of the blue, swallowing a mouthful of doughnuts down, completely nonchalant.

Liam has no answer to that. “I think he’s pretty cross at you,” Niall says, blue eyes blinking innocently.

“Yeah, well, maybe that’s for the best,” Liam says, pausing before continuing, “He probably hates me. I did pretty much drunkenly assault someone who has a _boyfriend_.”

Niall shrugs, licking the pad of his thumb, finished with his food – _for now_. “Maybe they’re in an open relationship or summat. Or Harry didn’t get the memo that they’re in a monogamous relationship because he’s been getting chummy with – what’s her face – oh that’s right, every second girl in school.”

Liam tries to pass the information off like it doesn’t affect him at all. What Louis does in his own time with his own bloody boyfriend is none of his business. The thought grows in his brain and he can’t help but prod at it like an ulcer in your mouth that would just heal if you could stop tonguing it. He’s not going to be able to let this go.

“Even if you are going to avoid him for the rest of your life, just make amends and it’ll start the … like _healing process_ ,” Niall says, over enunciating his words and pulling a face.

Liam laughs, shaking his head a little but knowing that he’s probably right. Goddamn the Irish.

“Now, order me some ice-cream,” Niall says, leaning back in his seat with a smug smile.

“Do you have a bottomless _pit_ for a stomach?”

~

The night air is cold and bites into the bare skin Liam’s scarf fails to cover. He shivers, huddling in on himself as he walks down the familiar pavement to his _death_. Liam knows he's being over-dramatic the way he knows he wasn’t really shivering because of the cold. He throws a quick glance behind him, trying to delay this moment as much as he could.

He hadn’t planned on going to talk to Louis today. It just kind of happened. Liam couldn’t sleep because Niall and Zayn’s words were niggling at the back of his head causing him to toss and turn until Liam blinked blearily at the flashing green neon of his alarm clock and realised it was 2 fucking am.

Liam stumbled out of bed, threw on some clothes and decided to get it over with – he might never get a good night’s rest if he didn’t. Now as his footsteps lead him closer and closer towards the Coffee Shop, his bed back home is looking mighty inviting. Self-doubt and second thought’s floods his mind with every thud of the sole of his shoe against the concrete. What if Louis wasn’t even working tonight? What could Liam say that could possibly make this okay?

Liam takes a deep breath, relishes how the chilly hair stings his nose and hurts his throat. He pushes open the glass door before he can come up with more excuses and walks in. He suddenly feels too big for the Coffee Shop, the furniture seems to be shrinking away from him, his footsteps unnaturally loud in the nearly deserted café.

Louis and Harry are the only ones in the café and they both look up simultaneously as the bell rings. Liam stares at them wide-eyed, looking like a deer caught in headlights even though he’s the one who’d walked into the café.

“Hi,” Liam says. Liam feels this isn’t a very good start.

Harry glares at him, his hand closing protectively around Louis’ wrist. Liam averts his eyes, looks down at his shoes and realises he’s wearing odd socks. Exhilaratingly, he doesn’t care. Liam knows he needs to finish what he’s started.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, looking back up at Louis with his heart in his throat.

He watches as Louis and Harry communicate non-verbally, it’s over a millisecond and Liam realises with a jolt he will never have anything close to what they share.

“I’ll wait outside,” Harry says finally, patting Louis on the back and dropping his wrist. He passes Liam on the way out and makes the universal gesture of ‘I’ve got my eyes on you’ with his back to Louis so he won’t see.

Liam nods at him before striding towards the counter, shaking hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“Hi,” Liam repeats, finally lifting his eyes to watch Louis.

“So you’ve said,” Louis says, wiping down the counter with a rag. “It’s almost closing time,” Louis says, still not making eye-contact but buzzing around behind the counter, wiping down random equipment with an air of doing something extremely important.

Liam takes a deep breath and the speech he had already prepared is blown apart. “I just wanted to apologise. I don’t usually get drunk and make out with people – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-.”

“Oh, so you just _fell_ on top of the sofa with me on it and your tongue just happened to _magically_ find its way into my mouth and then your feet temporarily became _dead_ so you couldn’t walk into a coffee shop _on campus_ to talk to me like a normal person _?”_ Louis snaps, finally looking up to glare at Liam.

Liam understands why Louis would be angry but he’s eyes are huge and _sad_ and the corners of his mouth are drawn tight and Liam much prefers Louis to be shouting at him than to look at him like _that._ Liam swallows with difficulty, his hands are sweating yet his mouth is so dry he can barely talk.

“Look, I’m sorry for kissing you, I truly am,” Liam says and watch as Louis becomes uncharacteristically still and the visible effort of keeping his shoulders straight keeps breaking, “but you have a boyfriend and I didn’t want to mess things up for you. I shouldn’t have kissed you, I just… I just really _wanted_ to.”

Louis doesn’t look so much like someone’s shot a puppy in the face anymore but confused, eyebrows drawn down and his mouth slightly open. “Boyfriend?”

“Y’know, the one with the dimples and curly hair? The one that’s pretending not to watch us from outside the window?” Liam says, trying to pass off his last sentence as light-heartedly as possible. He looks pointedly out the glass at Harry who has his hands pressed up against the glass, staring intently inside. He turns around immediately and starts whistling.

“Harry’s not my boyfriend – you are an _idiot_ ,” Louis says and he’s struggling to scramble up on the counter.

“Wait, what? But everyone thinks – you guys _hold hands_ for no reason?” Liam says but he doesn’t get far because Louis’ made it on top of the counter already and Liam needs to rush forward and steady him before he falls off and cracks his head open during this important revelation.

“He’s _Harry_ ,” Louis says like it explains everything.

The other shoe _finally_ drops and Liam is completely overwhelmed. He realises with blinding clarity that he’s standing between Louis’ legs, leaning up against the counter and looking up into that _brilliant_ smile. He spreads his cold fingers at Louis’ waist, warmth seeping into his clammy palms and Liam can’t help but smile back, he’s whole face scrunching up as his heart beats wildly in his chest.

“Oh god, I am an idiot,” Liam says but forgets how words work completely when Louis leans forward, strong fingers cupping his face and kissing him. Liam responds immediately, he’s body’s been wired for this since the first time Louis had given him a free carrot cake with his coffee. He pulls Louis closer, one hand gripping his thigh to keep him from falling, the other at the nape of his neck, trying to kiss him even though they’re both smiling too much for it to work properly.

“You could’ve asked,” Louis says when they part, his forehead leaning against Liam’s. He’s breathing shallowly, a small, secret smile quirking the corners of his mouth up, eyes flicking down to Liam’s mouth and back up again. Liam answers Louis by pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his smile and again on the tip of his nose and at the sweep of his lashes against his cheekbone.

“I’ve wanted to do that since forever,” Liam says. He feels like his heart’s going to actually burst out of his chest.

Louis kisses him again, tongue sliding against Liam’s bottom lip and Liam thinks he could do _this_ forever.

“FINALLY!” Harry shouts, crashing into the shop and knocking over the umbrella stand again. “God, it’s cold outside you bastards.”

“You’ve been to Starbucks, haven’t you?” Louis asks and laughs delightedly, keeping his fingers tangled in Liam’s hair and resolutely ignoring Harry.

Liam laughs and traces Louis’ smile, thumb resting on his lower lip, his eyes shining with something akin to wonder.

“You guys are already sickening,” Harry mutters, dressed in his coat already and pulling the door open. “Make sure you lock up and _wipe down the counter_ after you’re done.”

~

**Epilogue**

“If I was a drag queen, and let’s be real- I’d be fantabulous, what would my name be?” Louis asks one day, lazily slumped again Liam.

Liam’s absentmindedly drawing circles against his hipbone where Louis’ shirt’s ridden up, his other hand splayed out against his stomach, and it’s rather distracting but Louis trying his best not to let him know that. Liam shrugs, gently jolting Louis from where they’re holed up in his huge bed. Louis rather likes his bed and more importantly, the sturdiness of said bed. Strong springs.

“I don’t know,” Liam says. “Tara Tamara the Tart?”

“Miss Little Cockslut?” Louis says at the same time.

“You might be being a little too obvious with that one,” Liam says laughing, shaking the both of them with the force of it.

Louis turns his head and looks up at Liam, smiling at him. He snuggles closer, which is saying a lot since they’re practically on top of each other already, and feels unbearably smug that he gets to keep Liam all to himself.

“I don’t think I could be a drag queen though, I’m rather fond of my balls,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose.

Liam bites down on his shoulder and says in a muffled voice, “I’m rather fond of them too.”

Louis laughs again, throwing his head back against Liam’s shoulder before twisting around. He drapes himself over Liam, half on top of him, pressing up against his side so he can look into his face. Liam’s smiling the puppy-dog smile and Louis wants to squish his face – so he does.

“I love you,” Louis says, releasing Liam from the torture, keeping his hands framing his jaw.

“I love you too, Miss Little Cockslut,” Liam says, pulling Louis down to kiss him.

Louis doesn’t think his drag name would’ve been that bad, it’s a pretty accurate description of himself.


End file.
